Kinsman
by Elf Eye
Summary: Estel adopts a most peculiar pet, and both chaos and heartbreak ensue.
1. The Pet In The Cupboard

**This is a one shot (I think).  To those readers who haven't been following 'The Nameless One' series, the Elf referred to as Anomen is in fact Legolas, who in the series spends several centuries being fostered by Elrond at Rivendell.**

"I think," said Erestor one evening, "that Estel has acquired another pet."

"Oh," said Elrond, pouring himself a glass of wine, "and what makes you believe that?"

"At mealtime, haven't you noticed how much food Estel has been stuffing into his tunic—much more than even he could eat!?"

"I had," said Elrond calmly.

"And," added Glorfindel, "the Cook but yesterday complained to me that Estel is raiding the kitchen more frequently and more boldly than ever before."

"Probably another wolf cub," said Elrond, taking a sip of his wine and exhaling appreciatively.  Especially good vintage, this one. 

"I do not believe so," Erestor was saying.  "Unless wolves like grapes and apples and pears and cheese and bread.  For Estel has not been purloining meat alone."

"Not only that," added Glorfindel, "but when he does lift meat, he steals only cooked cuts, never raw slabs.  I am sure that if it were a wolf he would not be so discriminating."

"Hmm," said Elrond, mildly interested but not so much so as to be moved to abandon his drink to go investigate.

"I wonder," said Erestor thoughtfully.  "Elrond, do you remember those salt merchants we met in Gondor, the ones with skin brown as polished ebony whose hair was curled so tightly that they carried combs of a special design with which to dress it?"

"Yes, their land was further south even than Harad.  They said their homes were so distant that the very stars above differed from ours."

"Exactly.   I asked them many questions about their land so that I could add what I learned to the lore books.  Among other things, they told me of the many curious animals that dwell there.  One of them was particularly noteworthy: a tiny creature with a face and hands like a Man's but furred and with a tail and, moreover, with fingers instead of toes upon its feet.  The salt merchants told me that sometimes this creature is kept in their households as a pet and that it eats the selfsame food as the Men themselves.  Do you suppose Estel could have acquired such a creature?"

"But how?" asked Glorfindel.

"He but lately returned from an excursion to Dunland."

"Dunland is south of here, but still very far from Harad, and farther still from the land of the salt merchants," observed Elrond.

"True, but the creature could have passed through many hands before coming into the possession of one of the traders who from time to time passes through Dunland."

Elrond shook his head, smiling.

"Possible, but not probable.  No doubt there is a more ordinary creature hidden in Estel's room."

"Why do you think that it is in Estel's room," asked Glorfindel.  "I have heard no barking other than that of Gwaurant, whose voice I know perfectly well.  Nor have I heard any other strange noises coming from his room.  Perhaps this new pet is hidden in the forest, and Estel is carrying food to it.

"No," said Elrond.  "It is certain that it is in Estel's chamber, hidden in the wardrobe or under the bed.  For Estel these past weeks has been insisting on tidying his own room.  He makes up his own bed and changes the bed linen himself.  He carries his dirty clothes to the laundry and fetches back his clean ones.  He has even taken to emptying the chamber pot.  Clearly he must have some reason for wishing no one to enter his room."

"What do you intend to do about this behavior of his?" asked Erestor.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"That is correct.  The creature, whatever it is, is bothering nobody, and it is hardly a crime to keep one's room clean."

Erestor, however, was not as sanguine as Elrond.  To be charitable, he was gifted with curiosity; to be blunt, he was nosy.  So it was that one day he was passing by Estel's room and on impulse he opened the door and peaked in.  He saw nothing.  He crouched down and peered under the bed.  Nothing aside from several clumps of dust (apparently Estel's concept of cleaning extended only to visible surfaces).  He arose and glanced toward the wardrobe.  Crossing the room, he laid his hand upon the knob.

At the same time that Erestor was prying into Estel's affairs, Elrond was in his private chamber perusing a letter that had just arrived from Arwen.  Suddenly he heard shouting in the hall outside.

"Orcs!" someone cried.  "Orcs!"

Elrond leaped to his feet as the door was flung open by a breathless Elf.

"My Lord, we are under attack!"

"Where has the blow fallen?" asked Elrond briskly.

"Within the Hall itself!"

Aghast, Elrond spun about and seized his sword.  How had Orcs been able to creep so close as to enter Rivendell!?  He leaped into the corridor and raced down the hall, heading toward the spot where the uproar seemed loudest.  As he ran, servants pointed in the direction that the invaders had gone.  The trail led to the kitchen.  As Elrond reached it, panicked skivvies came pouring out.  "Orcs!  Orcs!" they shrieked.  Cautiously, Elrond slipped into the room.  Pots and broken crockery lay scattered everywhere, although whether thrown to the floor by the goblins or cast aside by panicked servants, Elrond could not tell.  Elrond stepped further into the room, trying not to slip on the broken eggs and the puddled oil.  Something clanged to the ground and rolled.  The noise came from the far side of a cupboard.  Holding his sword at the ready, Elrond edged around the corner.  He saw nothing.  He heard a slight noise at his feet.  Quickly he glanced down.  To his surprise, he beheld a tiny little Orc looking up at him, his face covered with flour and streaked with jam.  He barely reached to Elrond's knee.  Oddly, he was dressed in elven clothing.  In fact, his tunic and leggings looked suspiciously like a pair that Estel had grown out of.  In one hand the little goblin held a biscuit, in the other a scone.  He grinned up at Elrond, showing a set of sharp, pointy teeth, and crammed the biscuit into his mouth.  "Bass," he mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.  "Maer bass."

By now Glorfindel had arrived, having been hastily summoned from the training fields, and, an incredulous expression upon his face, he stood beside Elrond looking down at the goblin.

"Elrond, have I gone mad, or did that creature just say something in elvish?"

"Perhaps we have both gone mad, for I too thought I heard him say something in our tongue."

"Would it perchance have been something along the lines of 'Bread.  Good bread'?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I thought it to say."

By now the Orc was chewing on the scone.  He gulped it down and looked up hopefully.

"Bass.  Maer bass, saes."

Glorfindel and Elrond exchanged bewildered glances.

"He said 'please'," Glorfindel pointed out.

"Um, yes," said Elrond uncomfortably.  What was one to do when an Orc said 'please'?  He looked around and spied a pie cooling upon a shelf and handed it down to the little Orc.

"Hannon le," said the Orc.

An Orc that said not only 'please' but 'thank you'?  Elrond felt dizzy.  He heard steps behind him, and someone cleared his throat.

"Elrond," said Erestor timidly.  "I am so sorry about this dreadful mess.  When I opened Estel's wardrobe, I was so startled that I could do nothing but stare as this goblin hopped out and darted for the door."

"Estel's wardrobe?" said Elrond.

"Aye, Estel's wardrobe."

"This is Estel's 'pet'?"

"I believe so, Elrond."

Elrond sighed.

"Erestor, will you please see that Estel is sent to my chamber."

"I think he is out in the garden with Gwaurant.  I will fetch him at once."

But before Erestor could take a step, barking was heard, and Gwaurant bounded into the room, racing straight toward the goblin.  Elrond made a futile grab for the dog, but Gwaurant got by him and leaped onto the small Orc—and licked its face clean.  The Orc, for its part, threw its arms around the dog and licked _his_ snout.  The two were obviously well acquainted.

Hard on the heels of Gwaurant came Estel, flushed and panting.  He ran straight up to the goblin and began to scold him.

"You are not supposed to be here," he lamented.   "Now we are both in for it!"

In reply, the goblin grinned, let go of Gwaurant, threw his arms around Estel, and, yes, licked _his_ face.

"I suppose," Elrond said dryly, "that this explains why Estel's face has been so shiny and clean these past few days.  Now he has not only a dog but a goblin to remove the crumbs from his cheeks and the sauce from his chin."

"Yet he is still saucy," cracked Erestor, making a feeble attempt at humor, for he still felt embarrassed at having unleashed the goblin on the household—for one thing, once the story got out, it would be obvious to all that he had been prying.

 Elrond ignored the pun.  "I think," he said sternly, "that we should all retire to my chamber to discuss this matter.  Estel, you bring along your, um, 'pet'."  With that, the Lord of Imladris turned abruptly and strode from the room, followed by Glorfindel and a shamefaced Erestor.  Estel grimaced at the thought of what was to come but obediently took the little Orc by the hand, and the infant goblin, likewise obedient, allowed itself to be led to Elrond's chamber.  Once there, without being told, it seated itself upon a footstool and began humming a song that sounded amazingly like the first few bars from the 'Lay of Lúthien'.  "I _am_ going mad," thought Elrond.

Shaking his head, he commenced.

"Whence came this creature, Estel?"

"From Dunland."

"Pray be a little more precise in your answers, Estel."

"Yes, Ada.  When Glorfindel took me on patrol last month, we went to a place where the scouts had previously encountered and slain a band of Orcs.  Glorfindel said he wanted to determine which direction the band had been traveling.   Whilst he was studying the ground for signs, I needed to make water, so I stepped behind a tree.  There sat the little goblin.  He looked very pale.  I am sure that it had been several days since he had had anything to eat and drink."

"Why did you not tell Glorfindel of your discovery?"

"Because I feared that Glorfindel would have slain him forthwith."

"And with good reason.  You have called it a goblin; therefore it is plain that you do know that it is an Orc."

"Yes, Ada, but he was _so_ little—even littler than he is now.  That's how I managed to bring him back.  I wrapped him in my cloak and hid him in my saddlebag."

"You should not have done that, Estel.  You should have informed Glorfindel.  At the very least, if you couldn't bear that Glorfindel should slay him, you should have left him where he was.  Arda would have provided for him."

"You mean," said Estel accusingly, "that he would have starved or died of thirst or been torn apart by a wild animal."

"Yes," Elrond replied calmly, "for that is the fate of young animals that have the ill-luck to lose their parents.  Countless orphaned fawns and cubs are perishing even as we speak."

"Ada, is it true that Anomen has no mother or father?"

"I am his father."

"But not by birth."

"That is so," agreed Elrond, suppressing a smile.

 "Is it also true that Mithrandir found him in the woods, and that he was hungry and cold, so much so that he felt dizzy and weak?"

"That is true as well," conceded Elrond.

"I suppose," said Estel, "that Anomen would have died if Mithrandir had not decided to bring him to Rivendell."

"Possibly."

"Aren't you glad that Mithrandir was so kind as to trouble himself over a little lost Elf?"

"Of course.  And I know what you want me to say: that taking up the Orc was the same thing as rescuing Anomen.  But that is not so."

"I don't see why not!"

"Estel," Elrond said patiently, "surely you can see that the creature is dangerous.  Did you not notice its sharp, pointed teeth?"

"Wouldn't want to man-kiss that one," muttered Glorfindel, who had been intently listening to this exchange.

"Glorfindel," hissed Erestor, "this is neither the time nor the place to discuss man-kissing."

Estel of course made a mental note to ask Elrohir and Elladan about 'man-kissing', as it was obviously something Erestor did not want discussed.  For the time being, though, the boy was intent on pleading the case of his 'pet'.

"Gwaurant has sharp, pointy teeth," he argued, "and you let _him_ stay in the Hall."

"Gwaurant has not been bred to hunt Elves and Men.  Indeed, his nature makes him amenable to living amongst us.  As he is a wolf, he is inclined to defer to those who are higher than he in the hierarchy of the pack, you amongst them.  I do not fear that Gwaurant will turn on you someday.  As for this Orc, however, I have no such assurance."

"But, Ada," begged Estel, "the Orc is much too little to have learned to hurt anyone."

"It is not a matter of learning," Elrond replied.  "Orcs are bred to kill.  It is what they do.  It is what they are."

"Why do we bother to train our horses, as well-bred as they are?" argued Estel.  "Why does Erestor trouble to teach me?  Everything does not depend upon bloodlines, else such training and teaching would be either fruitless or unnecessary."

Elrond grew impatient, partly because Estel had a point and Elrond was not sure how to counter it.

"That will do," he said firmly.  "This discussion is at an end.  Return to the kitchen and help repair the damage wrought by the Orc.  Glorfindel, Erestor, and I will decide what ought to be done about this matter."

Estel looked longingly at 'his' Orc but obeyed.  Head down, feet dragging, he reluctantly departed the room.

 After Estel had left, the elf-lords carefully avoided looking at the little Orc.  No one seemed eager to speak.

"I suppose," said Glorfindel at last, "that the best thing to do would be to cut its throat."

"That would be much too cruel," exclaimed Erestor.

"Very well, Erestor," replied Glorfindel.  "We'll knock it on the head and then cut its throat."

"No!"

"Put it in a bag and drown it."

"Elrond!!" protested Erestor.

"Since when have you been so tender-hearted, Erestor?" growled Glorfindel.  "Fine.  Let us take it far away and leave it to perish of hunger and thirst."

"I think," interjected Elrond, "that we must keep Estel in mind.  He views this creature as his pet.  Whatever we do, we must strive not to inflict pain upon it or do away with it in such a fashion as to horrify the young human."

"I know of no way of killing a creature that is not in some respect horrifying," said Glorfindel in frustration.

"I could administer a potion that would render it unconscious," Elrond pointed out.  "Then it would feel no pain."

"No!" shouted Erestor.

Both Elrond and Glorfindel stared at him in amazement.

"We cannot kill this creature; it is innocent of any crime."

"Innocence or guilt is not the issue," said Elrond calmly.  "It is dangerous and must be put down as we would put down a rabid wolf—aye, Gwaurant himself we would destroy if he threatened our lives."

"You would not put down Gwaurant until he showed sign of disease," argued Erestor.

"The mere fact that it is an Orc is sign enough," retorted Elrond.

"Not necessarily.  Look you, this creature walks upon two legs and understands at least a little language and may be capable of understanding more.  It has something in common with us.  See its—no, his—ears.  They are pointed, like ours.  What if it is true—what if there is a kinship between Orcs and Elves—remote, yes, but kinship none the same?  Would you slay in cold blood this young one because he has had the misfortune of being descended from Elves who were captured and tortured by the Dark Lord?"

Elrond hesitated before answering.  When he answered, he sounded almost plaintive.

"But, Erestor, what would you have me do?  Surely you do not wish it—him—to remain in Rivendell.  That would be inconceivable!"

"No more inconceivable than the welcome you give some of your other guests!  You know what the Mirkwood Elves think of your penchant for befriending Dwarves, don't you?"

Elrond grimaced.  He knew.

"And then there's Gwaurant, Elrond, who is nothing but a wolf and yet is now loved by all."

Elrond considered for awhile and then shook his head.

"Dwarves are not inherently evil; nor is Gwaurant.  But Orcs, it is their nature to be wicked."

Glorfindel unexpectedly came down upon the side of Erestor.

"Even an Elf who is treated badly can turn our badly.  How do we know that each and every Orc would be wicked absent ill treatment?  Even their ugly appearance might be lessened given better usage."

Elrond wondered which of them had gone mad.  Yet he could not deny that they had had a point: if evil could be found within an Elf, was it not possible that good might be hidden within an Orc?  Thoughtfully, he glanced over at the little goblin, who sat quietly watching.  Suddenly Elrond had the uneasy feeling that the creature had understood each and every word that had been uttered.  The elf-lord had observed Dunlendings slaughtering cows, and he knew that the animals did not understand their fate.  He was not so sure that the small Orc was so oblivious.

"You have advanced several powerful arguments, Erestor, but I am responsible for the safety of my people."

Erestor opened his mouth to speak, but Elrond held up a hand to silence him.

"This creature is very tiny, and I deem that it poses no immediate threat.  Thus he may remain in Rivendell for a little while, until he is larger.  But he must sleep in his own chamber at night, a comfortable one but without windows, and the door must be bolted from the outside.  And when he has grown large enough to fend for himself, he must be taken far from Imladris and left to live on his own.  Somewhere in the Misty Mountains will do nicely, I think, but not too near any of the passes that we rely upon when we journey to Lórien.  That is the best I can offer, Erestor."

Satisfied, Erestor nodded.  It was really all that he had expected.

Over the next year, the chronicles record several peculiar developments.  Each morning the Orc, whom Estel had named, disconcertingly enough, Gwanur, 'Kinsman', would shamble to the library and patiently listen to the stories that Erestor would read to him.  The Orc even began to pick out a few words on his own, although it was obvious that he had no great gift for reading.  Each afternoon, a little more animated, the goblin would follow Estel to the training fields, where the human would give him archery lessons.  "Someday," Estel told him, "you will need to hunt for your dinner."  For good measure, Estel showed him how to set string traps, catch fish, and gather roots and berries.  He also taught him how to skin and dress game and how to kindle a fire upon which to cook meat.

During all this time, Gwanur never gave anyone cause to complain.  He was invariably polite (although his table manners left something to be desired as he never developed the knack of chewing with his mouth closed) and he took naturally to serving others.  In this, perhaps his bloodline did run true, for over the millennia Orcs had been bred to serve.  In any event, Estel discovered that the goblin liked nothing better than to spend his free time hauling wood and water for the Cook, and as the Cook had no objection, neither did Estel.  After all, the boy could not spend all his time with the Orc, and he was glad to know that the creature was content in his absence.  Gradually, Gwanur spent more and more time in the kitchen, and the Cook began to employ him in all kinds of tasks, from peeling potatoes to stirring soup.  As Erestor observed, neither the potatoes nor the soup seemed to suffer by it.

Orcs grow fast, and at the end of the year, Elrond decreed that Gwanur was big enough to fend for himself.  From the steely look in Elrond's eye, Estel knew better than to argue.  The goblin was no longer helpless, and Elrond had already made it clear that, once Gwanur had reached Orcish adolescence, the Elves would no longer be obliged to shelter him.  Sadly, Estel and Erestor set about making plans for a journey through the Misty Mountains.  They pored over Erestor's maps in search of a secluded place, one not too near the paths traveled by Men and Elves, but also one well-watered, with abundant game and trees that would provide cover and shelter.

"Wouldn't that be a good spot?" said Estel, pointing to a place safely south of one of the Lórien passes.

Erestor shook his head.

"The scouts who returned last week report that a particularly nasty Troll has moved into a cave in that area.  Even though Elrond believes Gwanur is big enough to fend for himself, I think he may be small enough to tempt a Troll who would not have the courage to attack a larger goblin."

It was true that Gwanur was rather short and thin for an Orc of his age.  He had always had plenty to eat, but perhaps, thought Erestor, the foods that were served at the tables of Elves were not the right sort for a goblin.  Mayhap it took foul viands and fell meats to properly nourish such a creature so that he might attain his full height.  And perhaps, Erestor added to himself, the goblin's character had also not been 'properly' fed—certainly he behaved more like an Elf than an Orc.  Indeed, over the past year Erestor had had more cause to reprimand the boy Estel than the goblin Gwanur!

But Erestor was forced to push such thoughts aside.  After discussing and dismissing several possible homes for Gwanur, he and Estel at last settled upon a place far to the north, on the edge of the Northern Waste.  Doggedly, they set about packing provisions for the journey, and the day came for the boy, the Elf, and the goblin to depart from Rivendell.

The Cook came running out as they left the Hall.

"Here," he said, thrusting a bag at Gwanur.  "I have baked you your favorite biscuits, enough to last you for several weeks, I hope, if you do not eat too many at a time."

"Hannon le," said Gwanur.  "I will be careful of them.  I suppose when they are gone there will never be any more," he added wistfully.

"No, I suppose not," said the Cook, "but you remember what I have taught you about flavoring meat.  If you do, you'll have many a fine meal, biscuits or no biscuits.  And, here, take this."

The Cook handed Gwanur a small saltcellar.

"I don't know whether you'll ever have a chance to refill it once you've emptied it, but you never know.  Keep it handy against that day."

"I will," promised Gwanur.

After departing Rivendell, the curious threesome of boy, Elf, and Orc traveled steadily north for several days.  At last they drew near the site that had been fixed upon for Gwanur's abode.  Erestor had been worrying about Gwanur's prospects for survival if he should ever encounter any of his own kind, and he offered what counsel that he could.

"Gwanur," he said, "if you should ever meet any Orcs, they may wonder how you came by the clothes that you are wearing.  Tell them you stole them from an Elf.  Preferably from a dead Elf," he added.

Gwanur looked uncomfortable, but said that he would.

"And," continued Erestor, "if anyone should ask how you learned all the words that you know, tell them that you got them from a captive Elf.  Preferably," he added, "from one being tortured."

"Erestor!" protested Estel.

"I am only trying to safeguard his life," explained Erestor.  "Gwanur is no longer like other Orcs."  As he said that, he suddenly realized how true it was, and he also understood all too well the import of that fact.  How he wished that he had gone to Elrond and argued in favor of allowing Gwanur to remain in Rivendell!  He now doubted that Gwanur would ever have become a danger to the other residents of Imladris.  Moreover, by raising him, they had no doubt delayed his death by a year, but when the end came, the tragedy would be the greater, for Gwanur had grown into great self-awareness.  Ai! It was too late for such regrets.  Elrond would be furious if they returned with Gwanur.  Moreover, the sentries no doubt would turn Gwanur back at the borders of Imladris, and Erestor would never be given a chance to make his case.  Gwanur's fate was sealed.

At long last the threesome arrived at the chosen spot and stood without speaking, each unwilling to utter the inevitable farewell.  Finally it was Gwanur himself who bravely broke the silence.

"If you don't return soon to Rivendell," he said dryly, "the Lord Elrond may suspect that I have done away with you."

"Oh, wonderful," thought Erestor in despair, "an Orc witty and insightful enough to indulge in self-deprecating humor.  And we are condemning him at best to exile and at worst to a death unmarked and unmourned."

Estel's thoughts as he gazed wistfully at his erstwhile 'pet' were not as mature as Erestor's but were no less sad.  "Gwanur," he said to himself, "really isn't bad looking for an Orc.  Indeed, were it not been for those pointy teeth, there were times when he might have been mistaken for an Elf—a particularly ugly one, of course, but an Elf nonetheless.  I wish Ada could have seen that."

Regardless of the regrets that all felt, at last farewells were spoken, Estel and Gwanur exchanging hugs and Erestor putting dignity aside to lay a hand upon the goblin's shoulder as he wished him well.  Then Elf and boy set out on the return journey, Estel looking back from time to time as he sadly trudged after Erestor, who himself had to exercise great self-restraint, else he too would have been casting glances behind him.

The next year passed uneventfully for both Estel and Erestor.  Estel moped about for several weeks, but Erestor thought himself too dignified to allow himself the luxury of showing his sadness.  Eventually, Estel, too, appeared to have recovered, and then Erestor thought himself too occupied in dealing with his japes to indulge himself overmuch in brooding over the fate of Gwanur.  Estel was forever getting into mischief or bringing up difficult subjects or asking embarrassing questions.  For example, one day he remembered a topic that had arisen on the day Elrond had discovered Gwanur in the kitchen.  Estel had never gotten around to asking Elrohir and Elladan about it, and so one day he casually brought it up during lessons.

"Erestor," he said, "what's man-kissing?"

Erestor turned a bright-red all the way to the tips of his pointed ears, and the only information Estel could get out of him was something about how he'd better mind his tongue.  It was obvious to Estel that on the subject of 'man-kissing', Erestor wanted Estel to keep his mouth shut.  "This time," the boy resolved, "I really must remember to ask Elrohir and Elladan."

Still, even considering the crises presented by Estel, life was in the main calm, so much so that Erestor found himself getting restless.  Perhaps without realizing it he missed the added challenge of having a goblin to tutor.  At any event, one day, to Glorfindel's surprise and dismay, Erestor announced that he wished to accompany the balrog-slayer as he toured the borders of Imladris.  Vainly Glorfindel tried to dissuade him, but Erestor could not be swayed.  A fortnight later, a disgruntled Glorfindel rode out in the company of a satisfied Erestor.  "He is going to get into trouble," the balrog-slayer had grumbled to the Lord of Imladris.  "You know he will, Elrond."

"I know nothing of the sort," retorted Elrond, who as usual was more amused than not at the sniping that went on between the two friends.

 At first, Glorfindel's fears did seem to be unfounded.  Erestor stayed close and did not do anything foolish.  Glorfindel began to relax and eventually found himself enjoying congenial conversations with his companion.

"Do you ever wonder," asked Erestor one night as they sat looking up at the stars, "do you ever wonder what became of Gwanur?"

"The little goblin?  Yes, but only occasionally."

"He wasn't a bad little fellow," said Erestor.  For an Orc, that is," he hastily added.

"Actually," mused Glorfindel, "I've known Men worse than Gwanur.  And certainly Dwarves.  Yes," he went on, "I would have preferred Gwanur's company to that of several Dwarves of my acquaintance."

Erestor certainly agreed.  He pressed on.

"Sometimes," the tutor said, "I think we did an injustice when we sent Gwanur away."

Glorfindel, however, was not willing to go so far.  Elrond had decided that Gwanur had to be sent away, and in all matters Glorfindel would loyally defend the judgment of the Lord of Imladris.

"Erestor, for all Gwanur was pleasant and inoffensive, he was still an Orc.  We couldn't be expected to harbor him once he was old and large enough to look out for himself."

Erestor let the matter drop.  As he was to take the first watch that night, he arose and wrapped his cloak around him.  Bidding Glorfindel goodnight, he slipped into the tree line and took up his post.

The first hour passed uneventfully.  Then Erestor heard the sound of branches breaking, as if something were trodding nearby.  He glanced toward Glorfindel, who had instructed Erestor to wake him if anything should require investigating.  The balrog-slayer was deep in elven dreams.

"It is probably nothing," thought Erestor, "and not worth troubling him.  I'll just take a quick look about."

He stole deeper into the forest.  Again he heard the breaking of branches, a little further away this time.

"I'll merely venture a few more steps," Erestor said to himself, "and if I still see nothing, I will return to the camp."

He took perhaps a dozen more steps and then stood very quietly, listening intently.  He heard not a sound.

"Well," he thought, "it was nothing—some animal that wandered near and then retreated.  I'll turn back now."

Before he could act on that resolution, however, something struck him hard in the stomach, driving the breath from his lungs and knocking him to the ground.  Before he could recover or cry out, a large Orc was straddling him, one hand on Erestor's throat and the other clutching an upraised knife.  As the knife descended toward the elf-lord, he tried to replace the scene in his mind with the faces of his friends.  His eyes glazed over as his soul made ready to depart.

Several minutes passed.  Erestor felt no pain, but he was still held down by something heavy.  He allowed his eyes to come back into focus.  Literally a dead weight, the Orc was sprawled upon Erestor, its eyes open but lusterless.  The hand that had held the knife lay limp, the blade having fallen to the ground.  An arrow protruded from the back of the Orc.  Oddly enough, it was an Orcish arrow, but Erestor did not waste any time reflecting upon that peculiar fact.  Instead, he made shift to crawl out from underneath the dead Orc, a difficult task, considering that he was pinned down on his back and had to push with his elbows.  At length, however, he shoved and squirmed his way out from under the Orc, scrambled to his feet, and stumbled toward the campsite, where he at once roused Glorfindel.  The balrog-slayer immediately decreed that they break camp.

"Orcs are not solitary creatures," he observed grimly.  "They are like cockroaches.  If you see one scuttle across the floor, you know that you face an infestation. We had best make for Rivendell at once.  Later I will ride back to this place with a band of picked scouts.  Woe betide any Orcs who still remain upon my return!"

At first Erestor was too occupied with breaking camp and reaching safety to dwell much upon the circumstances surrounding the death of his would-be murderer, but at length he and Glorfindel had put enough distance between themselves and the camp so that the balrog-slayer was willing to permit them to slacken their pace.  Then it was that Erestor both described the incident in greater detail to Glorfindel and began to reflect upon its meaning.

"I wonder," Erestor said to Glorfindel.  "My assailant, an Orc, was himself slain by an Orc arrow.  You don't suppose that Gwanur—"

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Glorfindel.  "You and Estel released the little goblin miles from here.  Undoubtedly what happened was that you were saved by the clumsiness of an Orc who was trying to aid his comrade but shot him instead.  Besides," he added, "you know that it is highly unlikely that Gwanur still lives.  As he was raised by Elves, I suspect he ended up making a very poor goblin, one ill-suited to survive under harsh conditions in the wastelands."

Erestor knew that Glorfindel was being logical, a quality that he usually prized in himself and others, and he once again let the matter drop.  He would have liked to believe, however, both that Gwanur was alive and that the little goblin somehow had had a hand in Erestor's own survival.  It was a hopeful thought that he still cherished years later when he departed from the Grey Havens for the Undying Lands.

While Erestor and Glorfindel were hastening toward safety, back at the Orc camp a captain was giving a tongue-lashing to a smallish goblin who stood looking down at the ground, his expression unreadable.

"Yah little rat," snarled the captain.  "Yer surely the most worthless Orc wot ever walked this earth.  Six months we bin on patrol, and yah hain't succeeded in killin' a single Man er Elf.  Yah couldn'e'en bring down that Dwarf t'other day, even though 'e uz fair trippin' over 'is beard as 'e scuttled away.  And now yeh've gone and managed to shoot my best fighter in the back.  Why didja ev'n bother drawin' yer bow?  He surely coulda finished off that pointy ear wi'out any help from ye!"

The goblin said nothing.

"Yah maggot," the captain raged on, "for all yah talk so fine'n'Elf-like, ye'll never make a warrior.  From now on, yer goin' to stay in camp.  The only thing yer good for is haulin' wood'n'water.  Yes, that's it.  Ye'll be our skivvy—ye'll never agin 'ave a chance t'go inta battle.  That'll serve ye."

Still the goblin looked down silently at the ground, and the Orc captain stomped off in disgust.

One of the other Orcs spoke up then.

"He oughter do the cookin' too.  He's a rare cook, for all he's worthless on the battlefield.  Kin make the most rotten flesh tolerable, and plain meat downright savory."

So it was that year upon year the little Orc hauled wood and water and cooked for his fellow Orcs, all the while enduring without complaint their jeers at his clumsiness as a warrior.  However, this blundering little Orc did go into battle on one last occasion.  It was on the day when Sauron called out his remaining forces in order to crush a presumptuous band of Men (plus one each of Wizard, Dwarf, Elf, and Hobbit) that had had the temerity to challenge the Dark Lord at the very Gates of Mordor.  The victory of Sauron's legions was so sure that even an ill-natured Orc captain could have no objection when one lowly little skivvy insinuated himself into a band of warriors and slipped out to stand before the Gates.  There he somehow managed to get into the thick of the battle, where his ineptness figured in a most unexpected fashion.  The Orc captain had managed to get a bead on the Man who, from his garb and demeanor, seemed to be the leader of the humans.  But just as he released his arrow, the little goblin stepped directly into its path.  Pierced through, he fell dead and so never heard the oaths directed at him by the captain, who himself was cut down by a Dwarf's axe just minutes later.

So it was that, by an odd coincidence, Estel, now Aragorn, who years earlier had saved a goblin, lived to see himself saved by an Orc.  Strange indeed are the ways of Middle Earth.

One more curious note: As the small goblin collapsed to the ground, a saltcellar fell out of his pocket and lay on the dirt beside him.  It was a small saltcellar, to be sure, but, still, a very odd thing to be found on the body of an Orc.  Aragorn himself spied it and pocketed it and then commanded that the small goblin should be cremated separately rather than cast upon the pile of carelessly tumbled Orc bodies.  And forever after, when Aragorn flavored his meat, 'twas that saltcellar he would use.  Until the day he died, no one else was allowed to touch it, and when he laid himself down to take his final rest, it was in a pouch upon his belt.  What it meant to him, no one, not even Arwen, ever knew, for he took both the saltcellar and his reasons to the grave with him.


	2. Keeping A Tongue in Someone's Head

**Folks, this chapter is**** the fault of _Joee_ and _SilentBanshee_, both of whom wanted me to describe how Estel finally learned about man-kissing.  No sooner had I read their reviews, than my fevered brain began fevering.  So, if you don't like this chapter, flame _Joee_ and _SilentBanshee_, not me!  Of course, if you _like_ this chapter….**

**Besides Joee and SilentBanshee, I'd like to thank these additional reviewers: _Gershwhen__, Grumpy, Kathysidle, Dragonfly_, and _Kitsune_.**

**I'd also like to thank Dragonfly for once again serving as beta reader.  This time she caught an 'Erestor' that should have been an 'Elrohir'.  I don't think I'll ever be safe from making that error!**

**I'm bumping the rating up to PG-13, by the way.  Parents, you have been warned!**

While Erestor was off having his adventure on the borders of Imladris, Estel was left in the capable hands of Anomen, Elladan, and Elrohir—capable, that is, of great mischief.

"Things are too dull around here," sighed Elrohir one day.  "We must liven things up."

"If we 'liven' things up," Anomen pointed out, "Ada will certainly make things lively for _us_.  It has been several years since I've had to polish armor or peel potatoes, and I have no desire to reacquaint myself with those tasks."

"Fine," said Elrohir.  "We won't liven things up in Rivendell but will take our show on the road."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Elladan.  "Dunland?"

"No!  Bree-land!  Dunland has no taverns, but Bree and the other villages thereabouts have several.  We could occupy ourselves for days."

Estel was of course listening carefully to this conversation.

"We will be amongst Men in Bree-land," he piped up, "so you had better tell me as much about them as you can.  For example, surely I ought to know about 'man-kissing', for no doubt it is a custom of Men."

The Elves stared at him.

"First of all," said Elrohir when he at last found his voice, "what do you mean by 'we', youngling?  No one has said that _you_ will be going to Bree-land.  Second, even if you _were_ to accompany us, you have no need to know about 'man-kissing', for you are not even tall enough to reach a woman's lips, let alone kiss a pair of them!"

Estel was not the least put off.

"First of all," he replied impishly, "I say 'we' because you will take me, for if you do not I shall go to Ada and tell them what you are about.  You are supposed to be looking after me, not carousing in taverns!  Second, didn't Elladan say the other day that size doesn't matter?"

This led to such shouts and hoots that Gandalf, who was visiting at the time, came out of his chamber to investigate.

"Here, now," he protested.  "I am trying to peruse a scroll containing most important lore but find myself distracted by your hubbub.  Whatever is the meaning of this disturbance?"

 "They are making fun of my size," complained Estel, "when Elladan has but lately said that size doesn't matter!"

Gandalf looked at the Elves with a decidedly odd expression upon his face.

"Don't you think Estel is a little young to be subjected to such comparisons," he scolded them.  "His voice hasn't changed; moreover, he is quite hairless, and some of his parts are still undescended.  Surely you must have noticed these things whilst you were comparing equipment."

The Elves were incapable of coherent speech, so embarrassed were they.

"We-we-we," stammered Elladan.

"And really," Gandalf went on, "if Estel is too young for this sort of thing, _you_ are assuredly too old.  What will you be engaging in next, pray tell, competitions to see who can piss the furthest!?"

With that the wizard turned on his heel and stomped back into his chamber, leaving three flummoxed Elves and one vindicated boy.

"What he must think of us," moaned Anomen as they gathered up glasses and bottles and relocated their conclave to the garden.

"Yes," said Elladan, equally gloomy, "and I hope he doesn't mention his thoughts to Ada.  Ada has made it very clear that he doesn't want Estel following in Elrohir's footsteps, and if he thinks—"

"My footsteps!?  _My_ footsteps!?" exclaimed Elrohir indignantly.  "Maybe I had just better go to Ada and mention that last week you—"

"Shouldn't say that in front of Estel!" said Elladan hastily.

The individual in question smelled an advantage as keenly as a wolf sniffs out blood.

"I think you had better take me to Bree-land," he crowed.

The Elves nodded weakly.  Anomen spoke, also weakly.

"Aye, we'll take you."

"And tell me about man-kissing—for as I am a Man, it is something I shall need to know!"

"Yes," said Elladan gloomily.  "We'll tell you about man-kissing."  He arose from his seat.

"Excuse me a moment."

He stepped behind a tree, but as he did so, Elrohir called out, "Wait a minute, brother.  I'll join you."  Seizing a half-filled wine bottle, Elrohir chugged it down before hastening after Elladan.  There was a moment's silence, then the sound of water plashing upon the leaves.  Elrohir was heard to say, "Hah!  I thought so!"  Then the twins reappeared, Elladan looking embarrassed, Elrohir triumphant.  Elrohir reached for another wine bottle, looking around challengingly.  Anomen, who had been thinking about making water himself, decided that his need was not so urgent after all.

Perhaps it was the wine; perhaps it was the thrill of 'victory': whatever the reason, Elrohir suddenly waxed brilliant.

"I can think of a better idea than just telling Estel about man-kissing," he announced.

"Oh, indeed?" said Anomen cautiously.

"Yes!" Elrohir grinned wickedly.  "Man-kissing is better demonstrated than described.  We shall put Estel in the way of observing two talented man-kissers."

Estel looked puzzled.

"But I am the only Man hereabouts, unless you are counting Mithrandir."

Suddenly the boy grew alarmed: "You are not expecting _me_ to kiss Mithrandir!  He will put a spell on me—give me a bird beak for lips, no doubt!"

"Man-kissing," explained Anomen, "does not require a Man.  It only requires a pair, be it Man, Dwarf, or Elf."

"Then why is it called man-kissing?"

Anomen shrugged.

"I suppose Men may have done it first, and then the other kindred happened to observe them and adopted the practice."

This was impressive.  Estel was tired of hearing that the Elves had been the first to do this and the first to do that.  It was good to know that Men took priority in at least one respect, although he would have rather it had been sword-wielding at which Men took the prize.  Fortunately he did not voice this thought aloud, as no doubt one of the Elves, likely Elrohir, would have had a witty retort on that subject.

Anomen was still worried about what Elrohir was planning.

"So you mean to arrange for Estel to observe a couple man-kissing."

"Yes," grinned Elrohir.

"The couple will not like it," warned Anomen.  "One expects privacy when one engages in that sort of thing."

Elrohir airily dismissed Anomen's concern.

"Oh, they'll never know.  Estel can be as quiet as an Elf when he chooses to be."

Elladan spoke up then.

"Whom do you have in mind as the players in your little drama?"

Elrohir opened his mouth to speak, but just then shouts were heard coming from the Hall.  Elves and boy immediately abandoned the garden and headed to the Hall to see what had happened.  To their surprise, they saw that Erestor and Glorfindel had returned from their expedition much earlier than expected.

"…attacked by an Orc," they overheard Glorfindel saying to Elrond.  "Only survived because the Orc's blundering companion, whilst trying to shoot Erestor, shot the would-be murderer instead.  Tomorrow I will lead a company back to that spot.  For now I will go to my chamber.  Will you have some food and drink sent to my room, Elrond?  I do not think I shall appear at dinner tonight."

"Of course, mellon-nîn," Elrond assured him.  "You can hardly be expected to sit through a formal meal after your hard journey.  I will see that a tray is sent up to you."

With that, Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor strolled off.  Elrohir's eyes were shining as he watched them go.

"I have heard tell," he whispered to the others, "that Glorfindel is the greatest of all man-kissers."

"Elrohir," warned Anomen, "I hope you are not thinking—"

"And who better," continued Elrohir, ignoring Anomen's attempt to speak, "to demonstrate man-kissing than the master of the technique?"

"He is also," Anomen tried to remind him, "the balrog-slayer, legendary for wreaking havoc upon his foes!  If you wish to keep a tongue in _your_ head, I would advise you to settle upon another Elf!"

"Besides," Elladan added, "you heard him tell Ada that he wished to retire to his room.  He won't be out and about tonight, and tomorrow morning he is leaving."

"He might come out of his room later tonight, given the right incentive," replied Elrohir gleefully.

"The right incentive?" said Anomen cautiously.

"Aye," chortled Elrohir.  "There is an elleth whom he has greatly admired for centuries but has feared approaching."

"Glorfindel has feared approaching an elleth?" said Anomen, incredulous.  "I don't believe it!"

"Oh, but it's true.  She's kin to Galadriel and quite as formidable!"

"Ah, that one," said Elladan knowingly.  "Yes, I have seen him quail at a glance from her."

"But," argued Anomen, "as he fears to woo her, I do not see how she could be used to entice Glorfindel from his room."

"That's simple, troll-brain!  Glorfindel will receive a missive from her that will set up an assignation."

"More likely an assassination," observed Anomen gloomily, "and of us!  But, tell me, O clever one, how are you going to get her to send such a message?"

"You _are_ a troll-brain," said Elrohir fondly.  "_I_ am going to write the letter, which Estel, who creeps in and out of the kitchen all the time, will slip onto the tray that is being prepared for Glorfindel.  Mark my words, as soon as he reads it, he will hasten into the garden!"

"It takes two to kiss," Elladan pointed out.

"Let me guess," said Anomen wryly.  "Elrohir is going to write a letter to her as well, one that is purportedly from Glorfindel."

"Of course," grinned Elrohir, "and that one Estel shall slip under her chamber door whilst she is at dinner.  When she returns, she will find it, and _she_ will hasten to the garden."

"There is a flaw in your plan," said Elladan.  "She has been heard to speak disdainfully of Glorfindel, saying that even if he were the last Elf on Middle Earth she would have naught to do with him.  Once she was even heard to say that she'd prefer the company of a Dwarf over his!  As she has been heard to say these things, her pride would prevent her from accepting an invitation from Glorfindel."

"I have heard," said Anomen wisely, "that ellith denigrate the very Elves who most appeal to them.  Still," he added, "Elladan has a point.  So often has she ridiculed Glorfindel that it would be very hard for her to unbend enough to meet him in the garden.  You must give over this plan, Elrohir."

Elrohir pondered for awhile.

"Ah hah," he crowed at last.  "I have it.  I shall simply sign the letter 'Your Admirer'.  I shall include enough clues to allow her to deduce that it comes from Glorfindel.  She will thus wish to meet him, but she will be able to claim to all and sundry that she had no idea who it was awaited her.  Thus her pride will be protected even as her desire is piqued!"

Anomen and Elladan had run out of objections and looked at each other helplessly.  Willy nilly, Elrohir would set this plot in motion.  The three Elves and the boy retired to the library to collect paper, pen, and ink, and Elrohir labored over several drafts of each letter until he was certain that both would pass muster.

"Here," he said, thrusting them into Estel's hands.  "This one is to be placed onto Glorfindel's tray, and this one is to be slipped under the elleth's door.  Then get you into the garden and climb the tree to the right of the statue of Gil-galad."

"To the right as I face the statue or as I stand with my back to it?"

"As you face the statue.  Hurry!  You must accomplish your task before the tray is delivered and before the elleth returns to her chamber!"

Estel hastened from the room.  Elladan quietly slipped out after him.  The Elf was still a trifle miffed at Elrohir's earlier behavior in the garden, and he thought it would serve his brother right if his plan went awry.  "Estel," he called after the boy.

Estel turned.

"Yes, Elladan?"

"Since you have need of haste, I will deliver one of the letters, the one intended for the elleth."

"Thank you, Elladan," said Estel gratefully.  He handed over that missive and ran off.  Elladan at once hastened to a chamber and slipped the letter under its door.  Of course, Reader, you know that the chamber he chose was not the one Elrohir had intended.

Not long afterward, Glorfindel answered a knock upon his door and eagerly accepted a tray from one of the servants.  "Mmm," he sighed at the savory odors that arose from the dishes as he uncovered them.  Then he noticed that a piece of paper had been slipped under one of the plates.  He drew it forth, unfolded it, and, as he read it, laughed triumphantly.

"Oh ho!  At last she has come to her senses!  I do not know how she contrived to overlook me for as long as she did, but tonight I shall show her what she has been missing all these centuries!"

His dinner forgotten, Glorfindel hastened to the mirror and examined his appearance critically, turning this way and that.  He took out his braids and redid his hair, and he changed tunics several times until he was certain that he had found the one that best accentuated his golden hair and his blue eyes.  At last, satisfied, he hurried to the garden and took up his position behind Gil-galad's statue.

Meanwhile, another individual—let us say the Beloved for ease of explanation—was pacing back and forth in agitation.

"Someone admires me, but who?" wondered the Beloved, who, not the intended recipient of the letter, had been unable to deduce the identity of the Admirer.  The Beloved considered and dismissed several possible Admirers.  At last, all attempts at solving the riddle frustrated, the Beloved concluded that the only thing to be done was to follow the instructions in the letter.  "I shall not be able to endure without solving this mystery," declared the Beloved.  The Beloved looked about for something appropriate for cleansing the mouth, but the only thing suitable was a bundle of athelas leaves.   The Beloved chewed and then spat into a bowl before finally setting out for the garden with grim determination.

As Glorfindel stood waiting for the arrival of said Beloved, he uncorked the tiny bottle of miruvor he was carrying, took a little into his mouth, gargled, then spat into the bushes.  No doubt Elrond would have been horrified if he had seen the use to which Glorfindel was putting the precious cordial, but Glorfindel had been looking forward to this moment for several centuries.

Having prepared his mouth, Glorfindel closed his eyes, imagining the smell and the feel of his approaching lover.  Just at that moment, he heard soft footsteps.  So attuned were his senses that, without opening his eyes, he was able to capture the Beloved in an embrace both soft but firm.

Mouth opening in surprise, the Beloved could do nothing in return.  As an amazed Estel watched, Glorfindel took advantage of the Beloved's confusion, slipping his tongue past the open lips into a mouth that tasted of the sweetness of athelas.  Sighing with pleasure, Glorfindel, as was to be expected, 'explored the mouth of his lover, plundering its warm recesses', and etc., etc., etc.  No 'tongues dueling for dominance', of course, for the Beloved was too stunned to do anything other than stand there limp.  Glorfindel, however, as was appropriate given his reputation, was in full compliance with all relevant rules governing the use of tongues in scenes of fan fiction passion.  (Author's note: Said section reads as follows: "tongues invariably slip through open lips, then plunder and explore.  Dueling is optional, as are moans.  For additional requirements for scenes of fan fiction passion involving the tongue, see also under 'leaned into the kiss' and 'deepened the kiss'.")

For several heady moments, Glorfindel was oblivious to all but the mouth of his Beloved.  At last, still following fan fiction regulations, the balrog-slayer began to suffer from lack of oxygen and had to break the kiss in order to breathe.  Withdrawing his tongue, he opened his eyes to feast upon the beauty of his Beloved.

"Paugh!" Glorfindel exclaimed.  Releasing the Beloved at once, Glorfindel sprang back several feet.

"Erestor!" he cried in dismay, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

As for Erestor, he was gagging and retching.

Glorfindel hastily uncorked the bottle of miruvor, intending to gargle again, but Erestor snatched it away from him and frantically cleansed his own mouth.

"Glorfindel," he spluttered once he had his breath back.  "Glorfindel!  You!  I thought, I thought—"

"_You_ thought!" raged the balrog-slayer.  "_I_ thought you were an elleth!"

"An elleth!  Glorfindel, you have known me for millennia!  How could you have ever thought me an elleth!?  Granted, I am not so powerful a warrior as you are, but—"

"No! No!  NO!  I know _you_ are not an elleth.  But I thought I was _meeting_ an elleth tonight.  I didn't expect you to be out here!  By the way, why _are_ you out here?"

"A note was slipped under my door, a missive expressing sincere admiration and heartfelt affection and requesting the honor of a meeting for the purpose of dalliance."

Glorfindel snorted.

"Erestor, _do_ speak plain elvish!"

"I _am_ speaking plain elvish," retorted Erestor indignantly.  Which word did you not understand?  Was it perchance 'a'?  Or was it the 'was'?"

"I know what the 'was' was," Glorfindel shot back, equally indignant, "just as clearly as I know what an 'is' is!"

"Be careful," Erestor twitted him.  "If I recall correctly, you were once heard to answer one of Elrond's questions with the phrase, 'It depends upon what the meaning of the word _is_ means'.  You do recall that, don't you?"

"You of all people," said Glorfindel haughtily, "ought to know that precision of language is of great significance.  Cannot you imagine a situation in which the outcome of an argument does depend upon what the meaning of _is_ is?"

"Remarkable, Glorfindel," Erestor sneered, "that for once you would be minding your tongue with such great care.  You are not usually so selective about how you employ it!"

Glorfindel turned a shocking shade of crimson, and the two, although they had been friends for millennia, might have come to blows had it not been for the fortuitous breaking of a branch in the hand of Estel, who, his curiosity having been satisfied, had been trying to creep down from the tree without attracting attention.  With a yell, he plummeted through the boughs, landing squarely at the feet of the quarrelling Elves.  At once they ceased their sniping, pouncing instead upon the unfortunate little human.

"Ah hah!" crowed Glorfindel, "a human in the hand is worth two in the bush!"

Erestor looked suspiciously at Glorfindel, wondering whether a pun were intended, but tried to push aside that notion, instead turning his energy toward interrogating their captive.

"What business did you have in that bush—tree!?" he exclaimed.

Now Glorfindel gave Erestor an odd look, but he likewise dismissed the matter in order to concentrate on Estel.

"Yes, that's what _I_ want to know as well," he declared, staring hard at the boy.

"Um, well, Erestor, sometimes you take me into the garden in order to illustrate a lesson—isn't that so?" the boy said hesitantly.

"That's true," Erestor answered impatiently, "but what does that have to do with today?  I set you no lesson that required your presence in that tree."

"No, you didn't, but I was here to be lessened nonetheless."

"On what subject?" demanded Glorfindel.

Estel thought before answering.

"Natural Philosophy!"

"Natural Philosophy?" said Erestor, his voice skeptical.  "How so?"

"Natural Philosophy," recited Estel, somewhat desperately, "encompasses, among other subjects, the behavior of all living things—you have said so!"

"Ye-es," agreed Erestor, "that is true—from the lowliest creature to the greatest, all living beings fall under the purview of Natural History."

Encouraged, Estel went on.

"Elves are living creatures; ergo"—this was a word he had of course learned from Erestor—"ergo, the study of Elves falls under the heading of Natural History!"

"Which branch of Natural History, Estel?" asked Erestor.  "When it comes to the study of living beings, one can, for example, consider respiration, circulation, digestion, elimination, locomotion, or reproduction."

"Um, I am not certain," hedged Estel.  "But I am sure _your_ lungs, hearts, legs, and stomachs are sound, else you would not be standing there looking so very, very—healthy."

"Pray tell," said Glorfindel, an ominous glint in his eye, "pray tell which Elves you were observing as part of your quest for enlightenment on the subject of Natural History."

"I was watching you and Erestor, but I didn't mean to be watching you and Erestor.  I mean, I meant to be watching Glorfindel, but Erestor wasn't supposed to be here—an elleth was!"

"An elleth?" said Glorfindel.

"Yes, an elleth you are supposed to be very fond of and who is supposed to be secretly very fond of you!  I can't imagine how Erestor ended up in her place—unless, unless, well—"

"Unless what?" said Erestor sharply.

"Unless a message went astray," Estel said unhappily.  "It's all my fault.  I was supposed to have delivered both letters, but I let someone else take one of them.  You mustn't blame anyone but me!"

"Tell me, Estel," said Glorfindel, a little more gently, "was this your idea?"

"No."

"Did you compose the letters?"

"No."

"Did you deliver both letters?"

"No—but I was supposed to!"

"Yet the fact remains that you did not deliver them both.  So how could this be entirely your fault?"

"Because," said Estel, shamefaced, "if I hadn't asked about man-kissing, no one would have thought this plan up in the first place."

"Man-kissing!" exclaimed Erestor.  "Whatever put you in mind of man-kissing at your age!?  Your voice hasn't even changed!"

"About a year ago, Glorfindel said he wouldn't want to man-kiss Gwanur, and _you_ hushed him and said he ought not to talk about man-kissing, and, well, that made me curious, is all."

Glorfindel suppressed a smile, and even Erestor was having trouble keeping his countenance.

"Very well," said Glorfindel.  "I understand perfectly now.  Betake yourself to bed, and the next time you want to know about man-kissing, ask outright."

"Oh," said Estel, "I don't think I have any more questions on the subject.  My view was quite unobstructed.  Now I quite understand why Erestor told me to mind my tongue."

Erestor looked appalled, Glorfindel merely amused.

"Be off with you," chuckled the balrog-slayer.  "Erestor and I have other fish to fry."

Estel looked a little anxious at that.

"Don't worry," Glorfindel reassured him.  "_You_ haven't named the culprits, and we shall make certain that they know that you, ah, minded your tongue, so to speak."

Still not entirely comfortable, considering the prospects of his foster brothers, Estel nonetheless did as he was bidden.  As soon as he was out of sight, Glorfindel and Erestor grimly turned their steps toward the Hall.

"We shall haul them from their beds and question them," Glorfindel growled.  "Their tongues will have to be facile indeed to escape the retribution that we shall visit upon them."

Eager to exact vengeance, Erestor and Glorfindel made their way toward the culprits' rooms, but as they neared their destination, Gandalf came out of his own chamber.  The wizard stopped short and keenly looked them over.

"I would say that you are on a mission," he observed, "and one that does not bode well for some young Elf—or perchance two or even three young Elves."

Erestor and Glorfindel acknowledged this to be so.

"Those scamps," Glorfindel complained, "decoyed me into the garden so that Estel might observe me man-kissing."

"And I," added Erestor, "was dragged into their plot as well—ugh!"

"Perhaps," mused Gandalf, "I can advise you in this matter.  Would you allow me to suggest a punishment that will assuredly be a just requital for their behavior?"

Erestor and Glorfindel looked at each other.  Glorfindel shrugged.

"We will listen to what you have to say, Mithrandir.  If the punishment you suggest is not severe enough, we can always decline your advice and select another means of forcing them to atone for their misdeeds."

With that, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Mithrandir repaired to the wizard's room to plot an appropriate response to the young Elves' mischievous meddling.

The next morning Elrohir groaned as he awoke.  His lips felt unbearably itchy.  He raised a hand to rub at them, but instead of encountering his face, his hand happened upon an object, hard and semi-conical and with a sharp point, that was fixed upon his upper lip, and a similar object attached to his lower lip.  Elrohir sprang out of bed and ran to his mirror.  To his horror, the face that stared back at him sported a bird's beak.  He ran screaming into the hall, where he was soon joined by Elladan and Anomen, whose faces were similarly adorned with birds' beaks.  The three of them pounded frantically upon Gandalf's door.

"Alright, alright," they heard him grumbling.  "Half a minute."

Footsteps shuffled toward the door, and it swung open, revealing a wizard whose hair and beard were even more tousled than usual, something the Elves would not have thought possible.  Shivering, the wizard hugged his robe to himself.  Oddly, he did not seem at all surprised to see three bird-beaked Elves standing before him.

"Mithrandir," sobbed Elrohir, "please remove the spell.  Please!  We'll never plague Glorfindel again.  We swear.  By the Valar, we swear.  And—and by the Silmaril of Eärendil.  And by the star of Eärendil.  And the ship of Eärendil.  And the light of—"

"Whoa!" exclaimed Mithrandir, holding up his hand to stay him.  "No use swearing all these oaths.  I won't use my magic to remove those bird beaks—"

"Mithrandir!" wailed all three Elves at once.

"—for I didn't use my magic to put them on your faces in the first place."

Bewildered, the Elves stared at him.

"I think you will find," said the wizard calmly, "that the glue is water-soluble.  _I_ think it would have served you right if Glorfindel and Erestor had used pitch.  Now, if you don't mind, I mean to return to bed and sleep in this day.  Good-bye!"

With that, Mithrandir closed the door, and the Elves heard him shuffling back toward his bed.

"Water-soluble," muttered Elrohir sheepishly.

By now, thanks to the ruckus the three had made, the corridor was filled with giggling Elves, several of them ellith whom Elrohir at least had been anxious to impress.  Shamefaced, the beaked trio slunk back into their rooms and laid wet cloths upon their faces, in that manner softening the glue until they could pull the horny protuberances from their lips.  It was several days, however, before they succeeded in peeling every last remnant of glue from their lips, and until then their mouths itched dreadfully.

In yet other ways they were made to suffer.  Elrond of course insisted on knowing the cause of the early morning disturbance, and great was his wrath when he learned the truth.  Anomen, Elladan, and Elrohir were summoned forthwith to his chamber.

"You have set a poor example for Estel, you have trifled with the privacy of others, and you have attempted to visit humiliation upon those who have the greatest claim to your respect," he thundered at the young Elves as they cowered before him.  "Your punishment will last two full turns of the moon, so reprehensible your behavior has been!"

Elrond paused for effect.  "I am," he announced in the most awful of tones and with the severest of expressions, "I am putting you in charge of the fowls.  You must feed them, clean their pens, gather their eggs, and, when called upon to do so by the cook, butcher, scald, and pluck them."

The three Elves shuddered as before them arose visions of birds' beaks, birds' beaks, an infinite number of horny bills stretching to the horizon and beyond.  Forlornly, they turned to leave the chamber.

"There is one more matter that we must discuss," said Elrond sharply.

"Yes, Ada," said the young Elves meekly.

"The Head Gardener and his subalterns are the only ones permitted to fertilize the plants in the garden."

"Ada?" said Elrohir, puzzled.

Elrond sighed.

"Let me put it to you more plainly.  Do not make water in the garden!  You are not wolves that must mark their territories!  Your—activities—have been leaving an odor most incompatible with a scene that is meant to refresh the senses.  Particularly on hot days, your passage through the garden becomes painfully apparent to all and sundry!"

And the penalty?

"In addition to tending the fowls," Elrond declared sternly, "for the next two turnings of the moon you three will be in charge of emptying all the chamber pots in the Hall."

With that he dismissed the trio, and heads drooping, they retreated to the garden.  However, Reader, you may be certain that they were very careful to stop at the first handy garderobe they came to.

It is said that it is the mark of a soldier that he eats whenever the opportunity arises, for he knows not when he will have another chance.  Anomen, Elrohir, and Elladan developed a slightly different approach to campaigning.  It is said that they never passed a garderobe without stopping therein to make use of the facilities.  As Elrohir was once heard to say, "I am never again going to be caught with my pants down.  And, yes," he added, glaring at Erestor, who was opening his mouth to speak, "I _know_, I _know_: that sentence is both literally and figuratively true!"

"My, my," smirked Erestor, "remarkable what passes through those lips of yours."

"No more remarkable than what once passed through _your_ lips," Elrohir shot back.

With that, Erestor wisely decided to let the matter drop, and so, Reader, shall I.


End file.
